


But There's Never a Rose Like You

by trashmouthtrash



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Cemetaries, Fred is dead, Grieving, I got this idea from Tumblr, Margaret is an old lady who really loves her roses, One-Shot, Roses, Sad George Weasley, So many roses, The Author™ Has a lot of feelings about Fred's death, george is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthtrash/pseuds/trashmouthtrash
Summary: @awful-aus posted "Awful Au #196" on Tumblr:"Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you've caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the "girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft" and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to you that we're on our way to a cemetery."So naturally I tweaked it, threw in the Weasley Twins™, and filled it with angst. Oops.





	But There's Never a Rose Like You

Margaret Adams had owned her countryside home for many years. The house had been in the family for ages, so Margaret knew everything about the area and its occupants.

Margaret was fifty-six when the Weasley family moved in. They had a whole gaggle of munchkins, all of them redheads. She was fond of the little troublemakers, even if their family was a bit odd. 

In fact, Margaret rarely saw the Weasleys. From what she'd gathered, the kids went to some fancy boarding school and Mr. Weasley commuted a good distance to work. A bit peculiar, they were, but Margaret was civil with them all the same.

The mutual politeness extended for a long while. The twins (Fred and George were their names, she was nearly certain) caused her a bit of trouble, playing jokes here and there, but it was all in good fun. Margaret scolded them, of course, but their banter always left her smiling.

The only time she really grew angry was when she was in her late seventies. Despite her old age, she'd meticulously cared for her roses in the front yard, only for one of those Weasley boys to come steal her roses. Every week, she'd noticed a few missing buds and a tall redhead scurrying away.

The nerve of that boy! Stealing her roses, probably all for some girl. Margaret had to say something to the little scoundrel.

On further look, she was fairly certain it was one of the twins. Fred or George, Margaret wasn't sure, but she did know that the thief usually wore a bandage round his head. 

The next time the rose caper appeared, Margaret was ready. She rushed toward the boy before he could even touch one of her roses. 

"Hey! You stop it right there! Yeah, you heard me. Don't move," she tutted as she took laborious strides across the porch. "I don't know who you think you are, mister, ruining my garden."

The boy was frozen, wide-eyed, and on further inspection, not really a boy at all. He was probably in his early twenties, Margaret decided. "What's your name, son?"

"George, ma'am. George Weasley."

"Well, George, don't let me hold you up. Go ahead, grab a rose. I'll just tag along and meet this girl."

The young man looked thoroughly confused. "Girl, ma'am?"

"Yes sir, I wanna meet this girl. She must be pretty special if you've been giving her my roses every week."

George's eyes widened. "Ma'am, it's not like that, I-"

"Nuh-uh, no more dawdling. I don't have all day, no sir. Be a gentleman and introduce me to this fine girl of yours."

George sighed. Scratching awkwardly at his bandage, he gently plucked a rose and began leading the way. "It's a bit of a walk."

"Well then, it's a good thing I've got legs."

George smiled almost imperceptibly. Glancing at him, Margaret thought she saw a glint of sadness in his eyes. The look was out of place in eyes normally full of mischief.

Not a word was spoken as the two walked. It was an uneasy silence, uncomfortable and tense. Margaret figured the boy was just embarrassed about getting caught.

When they approached the entrance to a cemetery, Margaret eyed George in confusion. 

He simply said, "We're nearly there, ma'am." George held the gate for her as she shuffled through. Margaret glanced at the young man's face. He was handsome, sure, but he also had dark bags beneath his eyes. She didn't think a man his age should look so sleep deprived, so utterly weighted down.

As she followed George through the rows of graves, Margaret felt uneasy. Surely, this was just a detour.

George stopped in front of a headstone. It was pristine, obviously well cared for. A small vase held a few wilted roses. 

Margaret's stomach dropped. The headstone read, "Fred Weasley"

"I'm terribly sorry for stealing your roses, ma'am. They were for my brother. I should've asked, I s'pose, I just..."

The redhead trailed off, voice thick with emotion. So many things were wrong with his situation, like the fact that Fred wasn't beside him, finishing his sentence. Like the fact that Fred was lying six feet under.

For the first time in her seventy-six years, Margaret Adams didn't know what to say. 

XXX

The following week, when George passed by Margaret's home on his way to visit Fred, he found a bouquet of roses waiting on the porch. They were tied with a red ribbon in a neat little bow. Attached was a card that read simply, "For Fred."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: @awful-aus on Tumblr  
> Harry Potter: My queen, J.K. Rowling  
> Title: Bobby Darin  
> Unbeta'd. Barely edited.  
> Also I don't know when the Weasleys moved into the Burrow, so this is very AU. Cheers!


End file.
